The Passover holiday break ended... so, Oshi, went back to school for educational clowning. First day back after so much family time also meant the pupils felt somewhat homesick. At the elementary school where Oshi works, children from grades one through six used the day to create dozens of imaginary pains and aches. They congregated in the secretary’s office every recess break. Oshi came to hear about the amazing, creative and fantastic ailments. She wanted to help make the
“I don’t want to talk to you,” a sixth grader recently told me.
“Good. Cuz I don’t want to talk to you either,” I replied. “I only want to talk to the girl sitting beside you.” He loved my response. He knew we had just begun the “Yes, And!” game. And he couldn’t wait for my next move. My sparring partner for this match of “Yes, And!” was a kid with a lot of drama in his life. He is a kid who needs boundaries to function but hates limits set upon him. We meet once a week. He
I have never been fashion-conscious. But as an educational clown, I have turned into a fashionista of sorts. I find it hilarious. Every costume I put together excites me. It took me a while to get the hang of what kind of style I wanted to show. If I'm going to a high school to clown I won't wear the same thing as if I were going to a medical center. Primary school visits also entail a change in wardrobe. And now, when I post my latest outfits, a whole social media community
Coming up the stairs with one friend on each side, Nicole repeats in disgust how she is a magnet for bad luck. “Terrible luck. Bad luck. Ugh. I have horrible luck,” she complains to her friends as they reach the 11th-grade floor and head towards the classrooms down the hall. “Mazal Nakhs,” she calls it in Hebrew. I’ve overheard Nicole lamenting her luck, as I happened to come down the stairs from the floor above just as they were coming up. As such, we reach the same floor mi
Ciara hesitates for a few seconds before deciding to stop me and another clown-in-training. “What are you doing here?” she asks. She has seen us around, she says, and wants to know why there are suddenly seven adults dressed up as clowns roaming around her school. “We’re educational clowns,” I answer. “This is a school. So, we came here to learn.” My answer seems to hook her in. She squares herself in front of us. “But what are you doing here?” she asks again. “Why are you he
Mr. Peacock introduces me to Barb. Well, it isn’t really an introduction.
He points at her and says, “she’s the school drug dealer.” As an educational clown, I get to meet today’s youth on their turf. I am allowed – and sometimes invited– into their space. I view it as a great privilege to be able to connect with them. To see the world through their eyes. After all, most middle school kids and high school kids wouldn’t choose to hang out or share their stories with a 43-year